


out of the frying pan, into the fire

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2019-01-16 11:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12342204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Out of all the people in the world, Fujigaya never thought he’d be spending his birthday with this one.





	out of the frying pan, into the fire

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

Out of all of the people in the world, Fujigaya never thought he’d be spending his birthday with this one. It was willingly, even, since he’d been the one to pick up the phone and extend the invitation.

“I don’t know why,” he says now, looking down into that all-too familiar face. “Maybe you’ve changed.”

“I haven’t changed,” Kitayama replies, his tone calm and non-accusatory. “Just the way you look at me has.”

Fujigaya thinks about that as they settle in for their…whatever this is. Yokoo jokingly called it a ‘man date’, which is probably the most accurate way to describe it in so few words. It started with shopping, because the best present for Fujigaya is one he picks out himself and Kitayama just pays for, which works out well for both of them. Then they grab a bite to eat and catch a movie, two things they don’t have to talk through, and somehow it’s comforting just being in each other’s company like this.

When the night starts to come to an end, Fujigaya doesn’t want to go home, dawdling on the way to the train station, desperately trying to think of something else—anything else—they can do.

“Want to grab a drink?” he finally relents. The last place he wants to go is a smoky bar, but it’s his only option.

Kitayama shrugs in affirmation, usually easy to agree to anything. While Fujigaya is much more picky in what he does with his free time due to the dumb shit he has to do on TV, Kitayama has gotten used to it. Anything that doesn’t involve embarrassing himself or making a lot of unnecessary effort is a good time to him.

All day Kitayama has been content to just tag alongside Fujigaya, accompanying him wherever they went, but this time Kitayama strides ahead. Fujigaya follows him to a konbini, where they pick up a simple six-pack of beer and continue on a path Fujigaya doesn’t know very well, because it leads to Kitayama’s apartment.

Fujigaya looks at him blankly as he kicks off his shoes, but Kitayama just hands him a beer. “Cheaper and less noise,” Kitayama explains, his voice as even as ever.

It’s possible that after all of this time, all these years working together have led Kitayama to read Fujigaya rather well. Still, it amazes Fujigaya that Kitayama would even pay attention to his moods, especially since they’re often all over the place. He hides a smile as he takes a seat next to Kitayama on his bed, which is the only place to sit, and leans back while Kitayama flips on the TV and downs half of his beer.

For someone who’s not home a lot, Kitayama sure has a lot of TV channels, many of them foreign. He selects a movie in English with no subtitles and Fujigaya knows damn well that Kitayama can’t understand it anymore than Fujigaya himself can, but there are a lot of car chases and shootings and Fujigaya’s not that invested anyway. It’s all background noise, though he’s not sure what’s in the foreground instead. It’s not like they’re talking or anything.

Then he feels something against his hand and by the time he looks over, he’s already turned his wrist to accept Kitayama’s fingers in his palm. He lifts his eyes to Kitayama, who’s staring blankly at the TV while he more or less holds Fujigaya’s hand, using some kind of magic touch that makes all of Fujigaya’s tension and confusion go away.

“Oh,” he says out loud, and Kitayama scoffs as he rubs the pad of his thumb against Fujigaya’s knuckle. It’s Fujigaya who laces their fingers together properly, feeling something weird in his belly and maybe higher. “I get it now.”

“Shh,” Kitayama hisses, doing a very bad job of hiding a smile while he stares at the TV.

Fujigaya glares at him. “You can’t even understand anything they’re saying.”

“You don’t know that,” Kitayama says airily. “I did play an English teacher, after all.”

“Whatever,” Fujigaya mutters, frowning when Kitayama squeezes his hand because who the hell argues while holding hands and feeling strange things?

They do, apparently. Fujigaya should snatch his hand back, possibly to smack Kitayama with it, but he really doesn’t want to. Kitayama’s grip is warm and comfortable, his thumb still stroking Fujigaya’s knuckle like it’s a mindless action, which Fujigaya belatedly realizes makes him the girl. He can’t find it in himself to be too bothered by it, because this is probably the least stressful physical contact he’s ever had with another person. It’s both shocking and logical that it’s with Kitayama.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Kitayama’s voice breaks through his thoughts, and Fujigaya swears it’s lower than usual.

He stops breathing when Kitayama’s head slumps onto his shoulder, the other man curling up along his side like he has no intention of leaving. But all Fujigaya can say is, “You’re warm.”

Kitayama makes a noncommittal noise, which turns into a sigh of contentment as Fujigaya (reluctantly) lets go of his fingers to wrap his arm around him. Kitayama moves closer, _snuggling_ against him, and that weird feeling in his belly flops around some more. He can feel Kitayama’s heartbeat, about half the speed of his own, and when did it get that fast anyway?

“Calm down, Taisuke,” Kitayama mumbles, the bass in his voice vibrating through Fujigaya’s chest. “It’s just me.”

“I know that,” Fujigaya snaps. “It’s _because_ it’s you that I can’t calm down.”

Kitayama lifts his head with what looks like a lot of effort and Fujigaya’s surprised to see him smiling, like Fujigaya had just said something that pleased him a lot. “Good.”

Gentle fingers brush along his jaw and Fujigaya’s eyelids fall shut on their own, his head tilting as Kitayama guides him down. Lips press against his and he gasps, the tingling spreading all over his body, intensified with each passing second. The arm already around Kitayama tightens, pulling him closer, and Fujigaya’s kissing back before he’s actively aware of it, craving the warmth and the tingles, wanting more.

Kitayama exhales harshly through his nose, a rushed breath of relief that has Fujigaya recognizing that he’s not the only one involved in this, though he doesn’t know why. Suddenly he has so many questions, mostly centered around Kitayama’s motive, but then Kitayama’s wrapping both arms around his neck and his actions speak louder than any words he could say.

The mattress is firm against Fujigaya’s back and it’s much more comfortable than being twisted in an upright position, even if he has Kitayama’s full weight on top of him before he can complete his next breath. It doesn’t matter anyway since Kitayama steals his air, kissing him much harder than before, and all Fujigaya can do is cling to the muscles of Kitayama’s back, holding on as his mind struggles to keep up.

He doesn’t know who actively deepens the kiss, just that Kitayama’s tongue is in his mouth and Fujigaya licks it with his own, earning a faint growl from the back of Kitayama’s throat. Kitayama straddles his lap and grinds down, making Fujigaya’s eyes fly open as he recognizes exactly what is hardening against him, right where he’s quick to follow. “Mitsu—”

“Relax, I’m not going to do anything to you,” Kitayama hisses between kisses, pressing the words into Fujigaya’s lips with more air than voice. “Unless you want me to.”

“I…” Fujigaya starts, but his body speaks for itself by pushing back, a traitorous moan slipping out as his cock swells the rest of the way, straining the front of his jeans. “Okay.”

“Damn, that didn’t take much,” Kitayama teases, grinning even harder at Fujigaya’s glare. “Are you usually this easy or is it just for me?”

“Shut up—”

Once again Fujigaya’s cut off by that mouth, but he can hardly mind when their tongues swirl together so pleasantly and Kitayama’s hands are sliding up his shirt. They’re just as warm as the rest of him, ten little waves of heat that he feels all over his body even when Kitayama harshly breaks their kiss to pull the garment over his head. Fujigaya fists the back of Kitayama’s shirt and does the same, twisting his fingers into Kitayama’s hair instead as he crushes their mouths back together and squirms under Kitayama’s hands.

Thumbs flick his nipples and Fujigaya arches right out of their kiss, moaning out loud as Kitayama mouths his way down Fujigaya’s jaw and throat. He takes both nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and Fujigaya falls apart beneath him, now actively thrusting upwards in a desperate plea for friction, harder than he remembers ever being before.

“Fuck, you look good right now,” Kitayama growls, and Fujigaya decides that he’s okay with Kitayama talking forever as long as he keeps saying things like that while touching him like this. “I bet you look even better when you come.”

Fujigaya lets out a strangled noise at that, the blatant suggestion sending fire soaring through his veins as he quickly becomes approving of the idea, along with anything and everything Kitayama may do to get him there. “Please,” he gets out, cringing at the way his voice cracks.

“How do you want it?” Kitayama asks, his voice practically purring as he kisses his way down Fujigaya’s sternum and replaces his fingers with his tongue, licking the nipple until Fujigaya’s hips snap again. “I can use my hand, or take you in my mouth, or rub against you like this, or you can go inside me.”

He says it so casually that Fujigaya’s breath hitch is delayed, which Kitayama notices and chuckles as he reaches down to unfasten Fujigaya’s pants. “You would really let me do that?”

“Why not?” Kitayama asks, like it’s not a big deal when Fujigaya knows damn well that Kitayama doesn’t sleep around that much anymore and it is a big deal. “I like it, a lot. Just like this.”

He emphasizes his point by grinding down again, and Fujigaya groans at the thought of Kitayama riding him, bouncing on his cock while Fujigaya thrusts up into him. “Fuck yes.”

“Thought you might be okay with that,” Kitayama teases, and Fujigaya can’t even roll his eyes with the lust burning within them. Then Kitayama’s hand is around his cock and Fujigaya can’t keep the noises from pouring out, not that he needs to, not that Kitayama isn’t drinking up every single one of them as he fuses their mouths together and shoves off the rest of their clothes.

Soon Kitayama’s breathing becomes staggered, his body jerking sporadically and Fujigaya quickly realizes what Kitayama’s doing to warrant those reactions—what he’s doing to _himself_. Curiously Fujigaya trails his fingers down Kitayama’s arm, feeling the muscles tighten over and over again. He reaches Kitayama’s wrist and continues up the back of his hand, gasping when he feels something twitch against his fingertips and disappear as Kitayama lifts up his back end.

“Can I?” Fujigaya asks quietly, almost a whisper, and Kitayama nods so hard that he almost bangs Fujigaya in the face with his head as he pulls out his hand and slathers something slippery onto Fujigaya’s.

Fujigaya’s done this before, but it feels like his first time all over again with Kitayama tight around his fingers, first one and then two. Kitayama whimpers into their kiss before leaning back on his heels, rocking down to take them in deeper and Fujigaya hopes this is an accurate prelude to how Kitayama will actually ride him, complete with the dampening hair falling into his face and his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Hot,” Fujigaya thinks out loud, instantly flushing at the admission, and Kitayama flashes a smug grin for a half a second before Fujigaya inserts a third finger.

“ _Taisuke_ ,” Kitayama groans out, and Fujigaya feels it in his bones. “Feels so good. How badly do you want me?”

“Pretty fucking badly,” Fujigaya admits, hissing as he reaches for his own cock with his other hand, which Kitayama instantly bats away. “Hey!”

“Quit whining unless you’re whining for my ass,” Kitayama says pointedly, though he takes Fujigaya in his own hand and squeezes him so firmly that Fujigaya’s eyes roll back into his head. “You’re so hard, Taisuke. Try to last long enough to make it worth my while, okay?”

In retaliation, Fujigaya jabs him extra roughly, earning a noise that has him pushing into Kitayama’s touch, which of course completely goes away. It returns almost immediately, though, rolling a condom down onto his length and coating it with lube, inadvertently stroking him enough to have Fujigaya’s hips snapping clear off the bed.

“Mm, do that inside me,” Kitayama whispers, leaning down to brush their lips together in one brief second of intimacy before sitting back up and tugging on Fujigaya’s wrist. “Come on, I’m ready. I want you.”

It may as well have been a confession with the way warmth spreads throughout Fujigaya’s body, coupled with the surge of pleasure as Kitayama hovers over Fujigaya’s lap and slowly lowers himself onto Fujigaya’s cock. Fujigaya digs his fingers into Kitayama’s thighs from the pressure, feeling the muscles flex as Kitayama gets accustomed to the intrusion, his eyelashes fluttering cutely as he breathes slowly.

“Hey,” Fujigaya says, and now it’s his voice coming out low and rough. “You don’t have to rush.”

Kitayama’s eyes squint open and he nods once, looking grateful as he takes a few more deep breaths before giving a test rock. It’s still too much and he starts to cringe, but Fujigaya’s already leaning up and pressing their mouths together, running his hands all over Kitayama’s torso. It’s the right thing to do because Kitayama kisses him desperately, like that’s all he needed to open up to him, and Fujigaya barely thumbs a nipple before it’s much easier to move, Kitayama’s moans dying on his tongue as their hips roll toward each other.

Then Kitayama shoves him down, returning him to his back as he starts to bounce, helped by Fujigaya’s own thrusts. It’s strangely easy for them to find a rhythm together, a symmetry that will never grace any stage, and Fujigaya can tell when Kitayama’s spine arcs that he’s hitting the right place. It feels so good, so raw, so dirty and yet so comfortable, his only focus on chasing his release that’s much closer than he’d like it to be.

“Taisuke,” Kitayama gasps out, and Fujigaya starts to pause in concern until he realizes that the other man is just _saying his name_. “Taisuke…”

Fujigaya has never felt like such an amazing lover until before this moment, rendering Kitayama incapable of coherent speech as Fujigaya’s first name turns into a jumble of mush and a rosy pink tints Kitayama’s skin all the way from his forehead down to his chest. It’s incredibly attractive and Fujigaya grabs him by the waist, fucking him from below and Kitayama hits notes Fujigaya didn’t think he was capable of reaching, if a bit strained.

“I thought you wanted to watch me,” Fujigaya rasps, and Kitayama squints again to reveal glossy eyes. “You better pay attention because I’m almost there.”

“Do it,” Kitayama says, leaning forward to brace himself on Fujigaya’s shoulders. His hair is a complete mess and all in his face and Fujigaya loves it. “Come for me. I wanna see you lose it.”

He doesn’t have to say it twice. Fujigaya abruptly stops trying to hold it back and groans as he’s overtaken by orgasm, pleasure flooding his veins from head to toe as Kitayama’s body milks out everything he’s got. He’s still out of it when he has to shove Kitayama off of him, his cock way too sensitive for anymore of Kitayama’s clenching, jerking when he pulls out.

“Mitsu, where’re you?” he slurs out, nowhere near fully conscience but aware enough to remember who made him feel this way. “C’mere, lemme get you off too.”

A soft moan answers him, then that warmth appears at his side again. “Didn’t expect you to actually want to do that.”

“Shut up and give me your dick,” Fujigaya shoots back, and the warmth covers most of his chest, mouth returning to his and Fujigaya will never in a million years admit that he missed it. Then Kitayama grabs Fujigaya’s wrist and Fujigaya feels something hard and heavy in his hand, Kitayama’s noises vibrating his tongue as he finds the energy to squeeze and stroke.

He figures out what Kitayama likes real quick, because Kitayama’s even more vocal this way than when he was being fucked, and the warmth spreads all over when Kitayama loops his arms around Fujigaya’s shoulders and snaps his hips. Fujigaya can feel him tremble and almost moans with him as he finally lets go, striping Fujigaya’s chest and hand with his release.

Kitayama has a stupid grin on his face when he reaches over and plucks some tissues from his nightstand, dropping them pointedly onto Fujigaya’s face before curling up next to him, and he’s asleep before Fujigaya’s even done cleaning them up. Fujigaya thinks about leaving, but then he looks over to see Kitayama’s face, flushed and peaceful and Fujigaya’s not going anywhere, unsuccessfully navigating the sheets before grabbing the ugly green afghan from the end of the bed and pulling it over them.

He slips his arm behind Kitayama’s head and Kitayama gravitates toward him, latching onto him like a life-size body pillow and Fujigaya’s pretty sure they’re going to have to talk about this eventually, because nothing about this says ‘one night stand’.


End file.
